Marionette of the Damned
by thecupcakeimp
Summary: December 14th. The day I was born has come again- the day that I should have died.-- Another year has passed, another year without his revenge completed and he is trapped in the intricate spider web of his contract like a marionette of the damned.


December 14th.

The day I was born has come again- the day that I should have died.

Everything would have been so much easier—I'm already practically dead anyway—my soul does not belong to me. My body may as well have been sold, my heart stolen and devoured.

Perhaps… I'm _not_ alive.

Ciel Phantomhive died long ago, that birthday long ago, began an intricate web of lies and deceit, and no, he will not let go.

The darkness outside is rent by the moonlite, shattering it neatly, pieces blown away by the moon. It's so much lighter than midnight should be.

The air is cold in my room, as cold as a catacomb.

Only the dead pass through here.

Pale representatives of what once was, stealing the warmth of any living body that dares to pass through the Devil's realm.

My thirteenth year of 'living'.

I am not entirely sure why I'm bothering to write this at all. Who would want to read it? Is it so that someday, someone besides Sebastian might have a glimpse of what's under the ice? So many want to chip it away. Wouldn't they be so surprised to find nothing?

No soul, no heart, no body.

It was all taken by the demon. Every last bit of me—my last breath (taken long ago) will be his.

I am gone. Long, long gone.

He came and stole me from myself.

And yet I do not regret it.

After everything that has happened, I don't give a damn.

All I want is—when it's finally over—is to hear silence. Truly dead silence that my beating heart won't interrupt with its steady, deafening rhythm.

I just want that silence.

The days have gotten longer, nights have gotten shorter. More time is spent solving cases, catching up with the manor's work.

I'm so tired.

Is this living at all?

Sometimes I just want to lay down and decide that I can just go and do whatever I want, or just end it all, get it over with, let him take my soul.

Those nights I'm lost and his cold eyes are burning (they're so cold they burn) as I gasp and writhe, just trying to breathe as the last bit of me is stolen. But I'm tempted and drawn in by his scent (he smells of the night itself), drawn in to my fate. It's inescapable, drawn by the contract, secrets, the very blasphemy of it all.

And so, I am still lost. The night is my captor as the moon he swore by laughs at mankind's petty struggles.

Sebastian has taken me, and my revenge is all I have left.

I can see it in my mismatched eyes.

Just- let me go.

Let go of these ribbons that hold me like a marionette of the damned.

I'll sink further into the shadows and just disappear.

Maybe I already have.

But he won't let go of the crimson ribbons, dangling me from the ends, the demon watching his prey.

I'd like to think he might feel something for me on winter nights when I give in to sleep's arms, knowing that he is still there, watching. But he is a demon, so I know no such thing is possible. Demons… demons cannot love, can they?

And yet-

Tonight after dinner and I drifted up to my bedroom, there he was, lighting the candles on a small, elegantly prepared and perfectly made cake.

"Happy Birthday, Young Master," he said to me, though Lizzy already had so many times. But his voice was not like hers, not so eager to please. Just soft, calming, with that smile of his.

"No, it is not a 'happy' birthday," I whispered back.

"Make a wish, we wouldn't want wax to get on the icing."

I blew the candles out.

"What did you wish for?" he asked curiously.

"Why would a wish if it won't come true? Wishes are nothing but wishes," I said as he smiled and cut a piece of the cake. It was definitely dark chocolate- he knew how it was my favorite.

"Bocchan does not believe in wishes?"

"Wishes will giet you nowhere."

"But sometimes wishes are hope that leads a human on."

"Sebastian, stop arguing," I snapped and took a bite of the succulent cake.

Hope is a dreadful thing. It builds up and when you miss then it only brings despair. Pure, dark, painful despair. You're left for dead and empty.

I made him leave and that is where I am now. A year older, still nowhere closer to revenge. Still the shell of the boy I was, but there is nothing left.

And you, this unannounced secretive visitor, you who have read these words, are undoubtedly reading them after this shell has finally died.

When I finally sleep and never wake.

When I have been drawn into the shadows by the red ribbons and do not emerge.

* * *

A/N: Aaaah, I liked writing this one. I had 'Dance With the Devil" by Breaking Benjamin stuck in my head at school and this is the product. XD This was supposed to be uploaded on Ciel's birthday but... yeah... That very clearly didn't happen. XDDDD So, thank you very much for reading! And any reviewers out there, thank youuuuuu!!!! SO. MUCH. ;D


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